I was going over an invented memory where there was all summer in a day and we were crazy from the heat. They diagnosed it disco fever.
The notes reverberated against the walls and I sat
messy and barefoot on the kitchen counter waiting to swallow them.
an artificial breeze dried my eyes and I didn’t need your sleeve.
We could have given birth to a sparrow with lyrics to “love hangover” printed on its wings, but our hands crumpled what was left of our fever.
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